


A Perfect Diamond

by Mithen



Category: DCU Animated
Genre: Age Regression, Amnesia, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-25
Updated: 2010-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman loses all his memories since he was seven years old to an invention of Hugo Strange's.  Catwoman finds him and enlists him as a jewel thief.  Clark tracks him down and, along with Robin and Alfred, helps him gets his memories back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfect Diamond

**Author's Note:**

> This story is an alternate version of the end of the Batman Adventures comic book, in which Clark is around for the events. You probably don't absolutely need to, but you might want to read some of the key scenes of the original [ here](http://jij.livejournal.com/12748.html) and [ here](http://jij.livejournal.com/13839.html#cutid1). It's a great read, better than my story by a long shot!

Clark Kent was in Gotham City, covering a story about a rash of diamond thefts that had been taking place over the last few days. At least, that was the nominal reason he was there. The real reason was a call he had received yesterday from Dick Grayson, his young, clear voice tense and worried.

"So you say you haven't seen him for two days now, Dick?"

"Yeah. And what's worse, there's been a couple of thefts of major diamonds. He might be stealing the diamonds because he hopes to find his memories encoded in one of them. I just wanted you to know, in case there started being rumors that Batman has gone rogue or something, that we're aware of the situation up here. I doubt it's anything we can't handle, but..."

Dick hadn't invited him to come to Gotham, but Clark was here anyway, standing on top of the building that he suspected the jewel thieves would hit next. He was still in civilian clothes; Batman never liked it when Superman was seen in Gotham, so Clark wanted to avoid the costume if at all possible. He leaned up against a chimney and watched the sun set slowly over the gothic skyline, so different from the clean lines of Metropolis. Batman wouldn't be pleased if he knew Clark was here. He probably should just go home. And he was just about to when Catwoman and a man dressed in gray landed practically next to him on the roof.

The man was definitely Bruce; Clark recognized the heartbeat immediately. Catwoman spooked when Clark stepped out of the shadows and retreated off the building, disappearing. She may be a thief, but she tended to try and avoid violent confrontations rather than provoke them. Clark decided to let her get away; he needed to focus on Bruce right now. He jumped and caught Bruce's foot before he could get off the roof and the two of them went down in a heap. Clark was startled when Bruce lashed out at him with a fist. He dodged it with ease, checking to make sure that Catwoman was out of hearing range. "Bruce! What are you doing?"

Bruce stopped to stare at him and Clark got his first good look at the other man's face. Something was definitely amiss, he could see that immediately. Bruce's jawline was all wrong in some way, and his body language--all of Bruce's usual guardedness and defensiveness seemed to be gone somehow. Then he spoke.

"You know my name? Who are you?" Clark took a step backwards. The voice was definitely Bruce's, but lighter, clearer...and yet certainly not the fake "Brucie" voice he used.

"It's me. Clark."

"I don't know you. Are you a friend of mine?"

The question, so open and simple, startled Clark still more, because he wasn't sure he knew the answer when it was put so directly.

"I...I work with you, Bruce. It's me, Clark." He felt an irrational pang at Bruce's lack of recognition.

The other man shrugged, his shoulders moving exaggeratedly--gesturing like a child, Clark realized suddenly. "I'm sorry. I have amnesia or something. I can't remember anything past when I was seven."

A moment while Clark took in the implications of that. Batman...with all the instinctive physical skills of Batman...but without the memories that drove him to be who he was. He realized Bruce was studying his face intently.

"You say you know me, and I want to believe you, but you have to prove it. Prove you're my friend. Tell me something about me that only a friend would know."

"Well, your name is Bruce Wayne, and you live at Wayne Manor with Alfred Pennyworth--" Bruce's face brightened and he nodded, but it clearly wasn't enough yet. What had Bruce told him about his life before the murders? Not much. "You love the Gray Ghost?"

A dazzling smile like none Clark had ever seen on that face. Bruce actually hopped up and down a couple of times. It should have looked silly. It didn't. "You like the Gray Ghost too?"

"Sure. I watched every episode."

"No way! Which one was your favorite?"

"Um...probably 'The Martian Moon Caper.'"

"Oh, I loved that one. The Martians were way cool. But _my_ favorite was 'Crisis of Infinite Worlds.'"

"Isn't that the one with the alternate universe, with the evil version of the Gray Ghost?"

"Yeah, yeah! And in the end he realizes his mistake and dies to save the worlds. So cool." Bruce looked closely at Clark. Then he pulled off his cat-shaped cowl. Clark looked into the slate-blue eyes smiling warmly at him. The impression was distinctly weird. "Okay, I trust you. Will you take me home? I bet my parents are really worried." When Clark nodded, Bruce stepped forward and slipped his hand into Clark's. _In his mind, he's a seven-year-old child,_ Clark reminded himself, _it's perfectly normal for him to take an adult's hand._

Bruce's hand was warm in his, holding it tightly and trustingly. Clark swallowed hard and they started down the fire escape.

Before taking him to the manor, Clark insisted on getting Bruce into a change of clothes at the motel. He didn't particularly want to show up at the door with Bruce in a catsuit. Bruce stripped out of his suit unselfconsciously, chattering about comic books while Clark kept his back carefully turned. Inquiries about Catwoman were met with a transparently fake ignorance. Bruce had always been fond of the thief; it burned Clark up to think she might have taken advantage of him in this child-like state.

After a quick but vague phone call to Alfred reassuring him and Dick that Bruce was safe and on his way home, the pair got into Clark's little car and made their way to Wayne Manor. Superman could have flown there in moments, but Clark still wasn't sure he trusted this version of Bruce enough to reveal his identity, not if he was still protecting Catwoman. Now _there_ was an ironic reversal: this Bruce seemed to trust him, but now _he_ didn't trust _Bruce._ Bruce had found out he was a reporter and peppered him with questions about what it was like to write for the Daily Planet and travel the world, which kept them busy until they reached Bruce's home.

Alfred met them at the door, followed closely by Dick in civilian clothes. Bruce grinned and grabbed Alfred in a massive bear hug. "Alfred! Oh, I missed you so much." He lifted the butler right up off the ground in his enthusiasm. Alfred came as close to looking utterly astonished as Clark had ever seen him, and Clark quickly filled him in on what had happened before the older man decided Bruce had gone totally insane. Meanwhile, Bruce had put Alfred down and was eyeing Dick suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"I'm...um...my name's Dick--" He stopped as Bruce cut over his voice.

"Are you--are you my little brother?" The delight on his face at the idea was lovely--and painful for all three watchers. "I always wanted a brother."

"I'm...no, I'm not your brother. I live here with you, I'm kind of adopted, and--"

"Do we play together?"

Dick looked nonplussed. Clark knew how he felt. "Um, yeah, I suppose."

"Sounds like a brother to me." Bruce smiled almost shyly. Dick blinked dazedly. "Nice to meet you, Dick." He looked around. "Where are my parents?"

A pause. Alfred stepped up behind Bruce, reached out a hand for his shoulder, hesitated. Then he put his arm around Bruce and pulled him close for something like a hug. "Your parents are not here right now, Master Bruce."

Bruce smiled at Alfred. "Okay." He took Alfred's statement at face value, not noticing the silence around him. "Hey, Clark, I've got some great comics upstairs in my room, I'll show them to you, come on." He took Clark's arm.

"Bruce, I don't think we've got time for that now," Dick said carefully. "I think we need to head down to the, um, basement and do some research."

Clark moved toward the door. "Maybe I should get going now that I've gotten Bruce home."

"What? You're not leaving, are you?" Bruce looked disappointed; his shoulders drooped. "I thought you were my friend."

Brutal honesty goaded Clark to say, "I only said we worked together..." he trailed off at the hurt look on Bruce's face. He felt like he had just kicked a puppy. Did he look that way when Bruce said such things? And did Bruce feel as badly then as Clark did right now? Somehow he doubted it. He looked at Dick. "Is it okay with you if I come down?" He didn't want to assume he had the right to just walk into the Batcave.

Dick looked amused. "No problem, Clark." Bruce cheered up, and they headed to the old grandfather clock.

There was an awkward silence between the three "adults"--no one was sure how exactly to bring up the topic of Batman. Bruce's eyes grew wide as the clock swung aside. "A hidden passage! Wow!" He ran ahead into the staircase. When the other three men caught up with him, he was standing in the middle of the cave, staring at the computer, the cars and motorcycles, the swarm of bats circling. He charged up to the men. "That's Batman's car! This is the Batcave! The Batcave is **under my house!"** he yelled.

"You...know who Batman is?" Dick asked.

"Batman? Sure. He fights evildoers and protects the innocent. He's _totally cool."_ His eyes lit with speculation and he grabbed Dick's shoulders. "Are you Batman? I live with Batman?"

"No, Bruce. Um, I don't know how to put this, but...you're Batman."

"...No way."

"It's true." Bruce looked at Alfred and Clark, who also nodded. Bruce grinned and flung out his arms, looking up at the ceiling of the cave.

"I'm _the gosh darn Batman!"_ His voice bounced and echoed off the walls; bats flew everywhere. He looked around the cave again. "So this is all _mine_? The cars and computers and stuff? Man..." Dick pulled a Robin outfit out and started to put it on. Bruce goggled. "You're Robin?"

"You know Robin too?"

"Well sure, Batman and Robin, duh. Hey--" he turned to Alfred--"If he gets to dress as Robin, I want to wear the Batsuit. Can I?"

Alfred looked disconcerted at being asked for permission. "Of course, sir, if you would like to."

Getting Bruce into the Batsuit was easier said than done, without his memories of how to do it. Clark carefully looked at the computer screens while Bruce kept up a running commentary on the process: "So that buckle goes...here? And this--eeeee, Alfred, that's _cold_, yipes. The strap goes over, not under? Hmmmm. Is that--is that supposed to be so _tight_? Really? It's not very comfortable. Ooooh, the cape is _way cool_." There were rustling sounds as Bruce tried out various dramatic poses. Clark took this as a sign he could turn back around.

"Alfred, can I explore some?" Bruce started wandering about the cave while Alfred and Robin settled into a conversation, most likely about how exactly they were going to deal with a seven-year-old Dark Knight. Clark spotted Bruce climbing into the Batmobile and hurried over, a little afraid he'd hit the ignition and plummet to the floor of the cave. That would be an ignominious end to the man.

Bruce was sitting in the driver's seat, moving the steering wheel back and forth and making noises that sounded suspiciously like "vroom vroom" under his breath. "Do I really get to _drive_ this? Wow, that must be so much fun." Clark climbed into the passenger seat. Through the windshield they could see Alfred and Robin looking something up on the computer.

Bruce leaned forward until his forehead touched the steering wheel, then turned his head just enough that Clark could catch a shy glimpse of blue eyes under slightly shaggy hair. "Um...why won't you say I'm your friend?" Clark sat, frozen, while Bruce continued, "You _act_ like you're my friend, but--" He sat up suddenly and looked straight at Clark, his face alarmed. "I'm--I'm not a _jerk_ as an adult, am I? Am I...am I, like, a total _butthead_ or something?"

Clark found himself torn between laughter and tears. "No, no, Bruce. You're not a butthead," _usually_ "You're a good man," he looked over at Bruce's handsome, earnest face, his hair falling a little in his eyes, "You're great, you're perfect--" his breath hitched suddenly in his throat and he repeated himself with a terrifying emphasis. "You're _perfect."_ He suddenly desperately hoped Bruce wouldn't remember this later, wouldn't be able to remember the way his voice had caught, the way he had blushed, catching himself saying the truth.

Because he meant it. He meant it.

Ah, _damn._

Bruce just grinned. Seven-year-olds are not the most adept at noticing unplanned declarations of passion. "So you _are_ my friend," he said triumphantly, seizing on the most germane point.

"I'd like to think you're my friend." Bruce nodded in satisfaction and the matter seemed to be settled in his mind. Then his mouth fell open and he looked at Clark as if something new had occurred to him.

"So...if I'm Batman...that means I'm a member of the Justice League. That means I work with Green Lantern and Flash and Wonder Woman and Superman." Bruce let out his breath in a long sigh, staring into nothingness. Clark didn't generally imagine how the JLA members--how he--looked to most people, but for a moment he pictured how they would all look to a seven-year-old boy: bright and beautiful as angels, flying and speeding and swooping. Bruce's voice was low and quiet and filled with yearning. "That's _so awesome_"

"Nuclear awesome," Clark agreed, which earned him another dazzling smile. He had more than filled his decade's allotment of Bruce smiles in the last two hours. If the Dark Knight remembered all this, Clark wasn't going to see his teeth for months.

Robin approached the car. "We think it might be a good idea to go see Karl Rossum, Bruce." At Bruce's blank look he explained, "He's a scientist we know, he might be able to give us some information about what Strange is up to."

"Can I drive?"

"Um, no."

As Clark and Bruce clambered out of the Batmobile, Robin turned to Clark. "Well, Clark, I, um, I don't think we can take along anyone not in costume." A meaningful look. "We wouldn't want Dr. Rossum to see Bruce with his civilian friends."

Clark tried not to notice how Bruce beamed at the last word. "I understand, Robin. Good hunting."

As Robin got into the driver's seat, Bruce suddenly came up to Clark and threw his arms around him. "Goodbye Clark, I'm glad I got to talk with you."

The hug was utterly childlike and innocent. Clark patted him awkwardly on the back, feeling the cape slip under his fingers, the Kevlar steady beneath it. "Good luck getting your memory back, Bruce."

As the Batmobile purred out of the cave, Clark started to climb the stairs.

He knew Batman and Robin could take care of themselves, even with Batman's memory loss.

Superman wasn't really needed there.

He shouldn't.

The way Batman's jaw dropped when he saw Superman float down out of the sky made Clark feel fantastic. And then very, very small. _That's great, Clark. Manipulating a kid's feelings so you can have the warm fuzzies. You're no better than Catwoman._

Still, he'd be able to hold in his mind forever the tone of voice with which Bruce said "Wow, it's _Superman!_" Dick shot him a look that could have been either amused or irritated; he'd clearly been learning his mentor's lessons well.

"Hi Batman, Robin. I was in the area and was wondering if you could use a hand?" Oh man, if Bruce remembered this later he would never let Clark live it down.

Robin rolled his eyes slightly. "Superman, we're on our way to see Karl Rossum. Batman has lost his memory and we think he can help us."

"Lost your memory? How terrible! Would it be okay if I tagged along?"

_"Would_ it?" Bruce hopped a bit. Oh, Clark was going to pay for this. He looked at Batman, turning a quick handspring on the roof.

It would be worth it.

At Rossum's, Superman listened while they discussed memory being stored on diamonds. Batman perked up and announced he knew where to find a large diamond that might have his memory, then whispered in Superman's ear, and together they disappeared out the window. They returned about a half hour later with a large, beautiful diamond the size of a fist.

As Batman handed Rossum the diamond, Superman explained to Robin, "He wanted me to fly him there because it's quicker. But he made me drop him off a few blocks away and 'promise not to peek.'"

"We _flew_ there!" Bruce interjected, grinning.

Rossum examined the diamond carefully. As he did, Robin stepped forward. "Dr. Rossum...when Batman gets his memories back all at once...there are some very bad memories there. Will he be ok?" Superman saw Batman swallow. To have to relive all those terrible memories at once...Superman felt clammy fear grip him. It would be so much worse than this young, cheerful version of Bruce could imagine. But Batman set his jaw.

"If I'm Batman, I have to have all my memories. I can't protect Gotham this way. I can't help the Justice League. I can't even get into this suit by myself right now." He glanced down ruefully at his chest. "So even if it's really bad, I have to know." He stepped into the machine's path. As Rossum went to activate it, Superman tried to give Bruce a reassuring smile, but inside his heart ached.

As the machine's effect crackled around Batman, he fell to his knees, then blundered in a mad panic around the room, crying out in terror and denial, his parents' murders coursing through his brain as if for the first time. Superman found himself at Batman's side without realizing he had even moved. He reached out to grab the other man, to hold him close and soothe him and help him cope with the memories...

And then he stepped back. These were Batman's memories. He had dealt with them alone before and he had to deal with them alone again. Bruce would never forgive him if he were to interfere, to prop him up when he needed to stand on his own.

But Clark felt like he was dying, watching Bruce grab the edge of a table and lean against it, his breath coming in harsh, hitching gasps.

"Are you all right?" said Robin.

A pause while Batman pulled himself up. "I'll manage." Batman's voice again, dark and low and deadly. He didn't ask what was going on or why Superman was here, which would seem to indicate he remembered the last few days, but his face when he looked at the Clark was as expressionless as ever. "Thank you, Dr. Rossum." He followed Rossum's rueful gaze around his wrecked laboratory. "I'll...cover the expenses."

On the roof outside Rossum's lab, Batman ignored the hovering Kryptonian and turned to Robin. "You head to Thorne's. I'll meet you outside in just a few minutes." Robin nodded and leapt off the roof lightly.

Moonlight poured down like liquid silver, limning the folds of Batman's cape in argent. It whispered silkily as he walked up to Superman, who looked up at the moon. "Well, now that everything's back to normal, I think I'll be heading back to Metr--"

"Clark."

"...Yes?"

"Back there in the lab. You wanted to hold me while I processed those memories."

"How do you know that?"

Batman reached out and took hold of Superman's hands. He gently unfolded one of them to reveal the half-moons bitten deep into invulnerable skin. He smoothed a leather-clad finger across the crescents. Superman tried not to shiver. "I know you, Clark. So why didn't you?"

Superman was having a hard time focusing, with Bruce's fingers running back and forth across his palm. "What?"

"Why didn't you comfort me?"

"There are some things people have to bear alone, Bruce. I know that. And--" the truth was hard to say; he made himself say it--"I was afraid you'd be angry if I presumed to be able to comfort you."

Batman let go of his hand and looked at him for a moment. "Thank you. Truly." And then suddenly he moved forward with liquid grace and put his arms around Clark. Hugged Clark. Except it wasn't really a hug, it was much closer to an embrace.

And it was neither childlike nor innocent at all.

Batman's voice was at his ear, velvet and smoke. "But you might have been surprised."

Then he stepped away to the edge of the building, readied a grapple. He looked back at Superman, still standing dumbfounded in the moonlight. He almost smiled, and he said one word, then was gone in a rustle of movement.

Clark stood a long time in the silver light, wondering what Bruce had been referring to.

The hug?

The fact that it had only been a hug and not become something more?

Clark's own words earlier?

Or was he referring to Superman himself? That was such a ludicrous thought that Clark almost laughed.

Whatever Bruce had meant, though, Superman would hold on to the sound of his voice, low and husky, murmuring that single word.

_"Perfect."_


End file.
